


give me a reason

by love_coloured



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Cassandra Pentaghast, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, F/F, minor dorian pavus/male lavellan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 21:49:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10580163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_coloured/pseuds/love_coloured
Summary: A crisis of faith ensues after the Caer Oswin mission, and Cassandra finds comfort in an unexpected place.  In which Sera thinks she's being obvious, and Cassandra is willfully oblivious.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been a moment of weakness, and nothing more. Of that, Cassandra was as certain as she had ever been of anything. When she lined up the serendipitous chain of events neatly in her mind, while staring into a campfire somewhere south of Crestwood, she could almost make sense of it all.

The will of the Maker had pushed something into motion that resulted in the corruption of the Order-- for what ultimate cause, she could not yet guess-- but nonetheless, fate had found her kneeling before the body of that boy, striking down her former colleagues, and bearing the weight of those terrible secrets alone. Sera had seen it all, and she dropped her usual needling, becoming attentive and even _thoughtful_ in Cassandra’s presence. One particularly rainy, dismal night on the road back to Skyhold, as the two huddled in their tent, a lot of words and feelings accidentally slipped out. The look in Sera’s eyes changed after that, in a way Cassandra couldn’t explain.

Those late nights they’d spent talking about faith, loss, and fear had confirmed Cassandra’s growing worry that she’d misjudged the thief in their midst. The woman’s coarse speech and comportment, the way she needled, prodded and seemed to ferret out weaknesses, had put Cassandra on edge. Still, there was something _there_ , in her naked gaze, quick to flare with anger and just as quick to calm with a gentle word, that was too honest to discount entirely. Perhaps she was unrefined, but when tested, Sera displayed a rare conviction, a fierce hunger for righteousness mirroring her own.

The Seeker had (usually) never been too proud to admit she was wrong But now she stumbled, having underestimated the severity of her underestimation. All those eagerly stolen glances, the hands that strained and twitched only to be pulled back, the burning pride and fearlessness in the rogue’s eyes when protected by her shield. _But that is unbelievable, is it not?_

In the weeks after the party returned from Caer Oswin, she was unusually distant. It happened that Sera took notice and, Maker have mercy, manipulated the Seeker into a few pints at the Herald’s Rest. A lapse in judgement had made her tip back one too many in a failed attempt to strengthen her resolve against a flood of affection; unsurprisingly, she lamented later, this had precisely the opposite effect. A mere slip of the tongue, and she had found herself leaning into the archer for support as she was guided back to her loft, probably blubbering about the Maker and her suddenly precarious faith all the way.

Sera had just happened to be there to listen, to be the only one who _wanted_ to listen. She seemed to understand, even, in a way that no one else could. Who could be blamed for wanting to be heard-- really heard, by someone of flesh and blood? To have your prayers answered by a voice, instead of the deserted sky? It was with no lack of shame that she realized how badly she had wanted that. The vast, tomb-like silence in her mind no longer sufficed.

She remembered the need in Sera’s face being tinged with trepidation, just barely remembered the careful distance between them. Cassandra herself must have been the one to fall. To drop just the wrong words from her loosened tongue and trigger an avalanche in the rogue… by chance, of course. The one thing of which she could not be certain was exactly when and how she had ended up stripped of her garments, those elven eyes glowing like stoked embers between her thighs as a deft tongue made very quick work of Cassandra’s tensions.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the issue is forced, and Cassandra realizes her mistake. This is not your typical romance.

There was no time to think about the morning after, when she’d awoken alone, a quickly scrawled note on her table reading, “Glad I could help.” The unexpected hollow that ached in her chest? But a quirk of chemistry, a physiological curiosity.

That some part of her had wanted it, she could not deny. She remembered the look in Sera’s eyes all too well; secretly, she turned the memory about in her mind like a small precious stone, ruby-colored and warm to the touch. But Sera barely acknowledged her the day after, nor the next two or three. Her gaze was more distant than ever, her interactions almost businesslike.

Cassandra wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or relieved. Perhaps passionate affairs were, in fact, best left as material for fantasy novels. The nagging feeling that her pride was getting in the way was a topic for later. Much, much later. It was not by design that she’d relented so easily, revealed her deepest need. Under normal circumstances she would _never_ have asked such a thing. It had been a _very_ long time since she had even considered it.

At any rate, the Inquisition had just been tasked with yet another critically important mission. Other than noting a few quizzical looks from Leliana whenever Sera was around, Cassandra had put it out of her mind in order to focus on the preparations that brought them here.

“Something been eating you, Seeker?” Varric quipped as Inquisitor Lavellan and the inner circle sorted themselves in the center of camp. “I thought you’d love to hear the details about the next chapter tonight.” The Iron Bull chuckled somewhere behind him. These were the _last_ two individuals she wanted to share anything with at this time, and she had studiously avoided them until now.

“I am not sharing a tent with you, dwarf. And you over there…don’t even try.” Cassandra felt heat rising to her cheeks, but managed to suppress any further response.

The Inquisitor, a slight elven mage with a quick sense of humor, was whispering conspiratorially with Dorian and Sera several feet away. He and Dorian had become rather… _close_ recently, so it was understood that they would pair off. Cassandra busied herself with her armor, watching Sera out of the corner of her eye. She saw Dorian cast a glance her way and attempt to conceal it. He then nodded at Sera and whispered in her ear. _Oh, Maker, please don’t let t_ _he_ _Tevinter_ _get_ _involved..._ Desperate, she pretended to worry about the buckles on her sabatons, but felt a nudge against her shoulder.

“Hey.” Sera dropped her pack and cast her gaze quickly downwards, fidgeting with a belt buckle. “I guess it’s… us, yeah? I mean, if that’s alright...”

Cassandra sighed. “There is nothing to worry about, Sera. Why would I have a problem sharing with you?” Nothing was wrong, of course not, but immediately she was replaying the statement in her mind, finding the phrasing hollow, the tone more disgusted than concerned. _Ugh..._

“Well, I...” The elf’s face was beet-red and she swayed unsteadily, all long limbs and wide-eyed like a foal. “It’s-- I didn’t think… you know, when I...”

Dorian and the Inquisitor, Cassandra realized, were monitoring their interaction with great interest. She coughed loudly and rose, parting the tent-flaps. “Sera, please sit down. _Inside.”_ She glared pointedly at Dorian on the way in. The wretched meddler actually smiled and waved, eliciting a snort.

Cassandra fastened the tent flap and started to heave a sigh of relief, when she was bowled over by a fury worthy of a tempest. Sera’s slender arms pounded at her chest, ineffectual enough against the warrior’s larger frame to be a mere nuisance, but her tearful face was startling in its raw emotion. “How could you? Let me… and let me leave, and say not one friggin’ word!”

“Sera, please calm down! I do not understand what--”

“Frigging thick, you are! Think I’d do that with just anyone, is that it? Oi, that knife-ear’ll warm my bed, yeah! Got your jollies and forgot about it?” Her voice broke into a sob and she collapsed into Cassandra’s chest. Tentatively, the Seeker’s arms encircled her, coming to rest just below her shoulderblades as her body convulsed and burrowed into the warrior’s chest.

Cassandra felt her stomach lurch. “That-- that is most definitely _not_ what I think. I’m sorry, Sera. I did not mean to hurt you.” There was a long pause as the little tempest churned in her arms, sobs muffled against her collarbone.

Sera lifted her head, her face contorted and streaked with tears. “Then why didn’t you say anything? I thought...” Her first thought must have been too painful to verbalize, and she choked it down. “You came to me first. So I thought you… wanted to. Wanted me to. That it was okay. Won’t have to hide it anymore, all this...”

 _Of course I_ _wanted it_ _,_ _damn it all.._ _._ Her lips parted soundlessly, and closed again.

Sera placed a palm over her chest, as if trying to keep something from spilling out. “After all that, I thought-- we could really be, an _us_ , or something like that. It’s stupid, yeah? I just wanted to make you happy, but if you didn’t want to, with me, then…”

“You did make me happy! I mean, you _do_ , but-- Oh, Maker forgive me.” Cassandra watched Sera’s face flicker from terror, to fleeting hope, to something indescribable. She puzzled over what she could possibly say to explain herself, to understand just what had happened after all. She sighed deeply, almost a groan, and practically crumpled, burying her face in her hands. “Sera, please understand. I… I don’t know how to _do_ this.”

“Do what? You mean… _oh_. _This_ this?"

Cassandra could only imagine what sort of vulgar gesticulations accompanied this statement, as she was still too mortified to show her face. “I... am not proud of it. But you deserve the truth. You are undoubtedly wiser about _certain_ _things_ than I am, and...”

“Cassandra, you’re… _afraid_?” Her face still red from crying, she laughed out loud. “I know my way around and all, but that’s not what matters, is it?”

“I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by… _presuming_ certain things. Again,” she muttered, half under her breath. It was embarrassing enough to admit she was quite outmatched in matters of love, but that she had misjudged the situation so entirely...

Sera’s lip curled in indignation. “Not sure what you were bloody ‘presuming.’ Did you _not_ notice that I was all up in your… down there? Bits and all?  Shite, balls! That’s what I was just trying to say, it isn’t _l_ _ike_ that! I don’t just do that with frigging anyone!”

“I, I thought that I had offended you with my lack of… experience?” Cassandra stammered. She would have preferred to face down ten High Dragons at once than to broach this particular subject with this particular woman. “It was selfish of me. I should not have asked you to--”

“No,” Sera interrupted, seizing Cassandra by the shoulders, and smothered her in a kiss. She drew away just as suddenly, a great conviction in her eyes, lips flushed and tempting in a way Cassandra couldn’t remember noticing before. “Don’t _ever_ think that.” Her eyes roamed over Cassandra’s face, to her neck and her partially exposed collarbone, then lower. Idly she stroked the warrior’s jaw, lingering near the deep scar on her cheek. “I _wanted_ to, and don’t you frigging forget it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much tinkering was required!

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Mytha for looking over the initial draft and confirming my assessment, and for the encouragement to keep going.


End file.
